A Sense of Self Preservation
by Arisprite
Summary: Arthur was cursing himself for his blindness. Oh, everything had seemed fine until a few hours ago, when things had taken an abrupt-and terrifying-turn downhill. Fluffy sick fic. No slash. Rated K .


Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, BBC does :)

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><p>Arthur was cursing himself for his blindness.<p>

Oh, everything had seemed fine until a few hours ago, when things had taken an abrupt-and terrifying-turn downhill.

Merlin had seemed his usual self that morning, beaming brighter than the sun while he pulled back the curtains, cheerfully dodging Arthur's projectiles, and bringing him his breakfast with a smile.

Arthur, looking back, was surprised at how thin that smile was, and he can't imagine how he didn't notice how the normally pale servant was almost gray, with dark shadows under his eyes.

He tided up the room as part of his normal morning chores, and Arthur remembers, _remembers_, telling him to stop choking on the dust, and that if he'd kept it cleaner he wouldn't cough so. However, the hacking didn't abate as the dust cleared.

Arthur had decided to go out on an overnight hunt. He'd wanted to get away from the castle, and it was getting late in the season; he had to go now, if he wanted to go before winter set in. It was late fall now, and there would be frost on their blankets when they awoke, but it was nothing they hadn't dealt with before.

He's also had a thought that a break from the castle would do Merlin some good as well, for he seemed to be tired as that day went on.

He decided to walk, rather than take the horses; get the blood pumping in the crisp air, and feel the crunch of leaves underfoot. Arthur had thought that Merlin would prefer that, since without horses, they really couldn't bring back much game, which meant that Arthur would probably only catch enough for their meals while out in the woods.

But Merlin didn't seem to notice, for his breathing was laboured as they walked, and he stopped to take breaks, often falling behind. If Arthur had been in a worse mood, ironically, he probably would have noticed sooner, demanded to know what the problem was, but as such, he strode along, blind to his servant's distress.

It wasn't until they were crossing a makeshift bridge over a river, a simple fallen log that wasn't as sturdy as it looked, that Merlin had demonstrated his difficulties in a way that even Arthur was able to see.

He fell.

Merlin gasped, it was almost a scream, as he hit the water, and the sound burned its way through Arthur, freezing him where he stood for just a moment. A moment long enough for Merlin to go under, bobbing away in the current.

Arthur shed his jacket and sword, and dove in, downstream from where Merlin had gone in. The current sent the boy straight into Arthur's arms, and he held on firmly. The swim back to shore was harder than the swim out had been, but they made it in good time, and Arthur was beginning to congratulate himself on a crisis averted.

Until he looked at Merlin.

He was bent over his knees, coughing harshly. Soaked hair fell into his eyes, squeezed shut as they were, and he held a hand to his chest, gripping hard. Arthur had seen him go under once, perhaps twice, and he knew Merlin could swim (that river in Ealdor wasn't just for the fish) so he couldn't understand why he was having so much trouble now.

He came closer, laying a hand on Merlin's back.

"Careful Merlin. You sound like you swallowed half the river." He expected the coughs, odd enough on their own, to quiet, and for Merlin to sit up, and smirk at him for showing that he cared. But the hacking kept going, getting more and more painful sounding, and then Arthur was catching him as Merlin collapsed to the ground, nearly getting a faceful of dirt.

"Whoa, Merlin! Merlin?" Arthur shook him, speaking over the fit, "You've got to breath, Merlin! Breath!" He pounded on his back, and after a few more rattling coughs, Merlin sucked in a deep raspy breath, and then another. He was limp on the ground, and Arthur wasn't even sure if he was conscious anymore. His insides twisted in worry.

"Merlin?" Merlin turned his head, but didn't raise other man met Arthur's eyes, but he didn't look like he trusted himself to speak. "What the hell was that?" Arthur nearly shouted. Because, really he was kneeling in the dirt next to his half collapsed manservant. If that wasn't an excuse to swear, he didn't know what was.

Merlin shrugged, getting his elbows under him, but not lifting himself any further. Arthur still had his hand on his back, and he could feel his lungs straining for breath, his ribcage expanding and contracting faster than it should have been.

"Well?" Arthur asked again, impatient. And concerned.

Merlin cleared his throat gently. "'M sick..." He murmured, and Arthur sat back on his heels.

"You're sick." He stated. Then lightly cuffed Merlin around the head. Very lightly. "Then why didn't you stay home, you idiot?"

Arthur sighed heavily, hoping the world knew just how much he put up with with Merlin as his manservant. Then he leaned forward, lifting Merlin slowly into an upright position.

"Well, I suppose now we have to find shelter and get you dried off. Then head home." He stood, carefully supporting the swaying servant. Merlin's face got paler, if possible, when they moved. But he was aware enough to tilt his head, looking at the sky.

"'S gonna rain." Arthur looked up as well, taking in the gathering clouds, and swore again. Still justified.

"Then, I suppose it's a good thing we're looking for shelter." He muttered to himself. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" That question was directed all to Merlin.

Merlin shrugged the shoulder that wasn't currently jammed against Arthur's, "It was just a cough." He said, then coughed.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Coughs can get worse. Did Gaius look at it?" Merlin shook his head. Arthur sighed, and began to walk forward with his arm wrapped tightly around Merlin's waist, Merlin's arm across his shoulders. "We really need to work on your sense of self-preservation, Merlin. Here's an example," He said brightly. "When you feel poorly, you tell Gaius, and then you tell me, then you go to bed. There, not too hard, is it?"

Merlin huffed, shaking his head, but it looked less in agreement, and more in exasperation. Though what that idiot thought he had to be exasperated about, Arthur had no idea. He didn't have to deal with man-servants almost collapsing on him, because of some misplaced sense of duty to a job he had yet to go a day without complaining about.

"Really, Merlin..." Arthur muttered.

They walked for a few minutes, and though Merlin took on more of his own weight, and didn't lean on Arthur as much as he had, he still didn't pull away, which told Arthur that he still wasn't feeling steady. Arthur led them towards some caves that he knew were in the area, in fact, he'd intended to make them their base for the trip.

It took perhaps a half hour to reach them, and in that time Merlin had begun to lean on him more. His head hung down, as if he hadn't the strength to hold it up, and his breathing was rough. Whenever he coughed, his whole body seized up, and Arthur had to stop walking and just hold him up. Throughout this, Arthur's guts clenched in worry.

It had barely began to rain, when they entered the caves, not that it made much of difference, since they both were still wet from the river. Arthur was grateful, for it meant that the wood he gathered would be dry enough to light. He slipped off his long coat and lay Merlin down on it. He didn't resist.

"Merlin?" He tried to get the other man's attention, and finally bleary eyes locked onto his. "I'm going to gather wood for the fire, so I'll be back in a few minutes. Alright?"

Merlin nodded, and shivered. Arthur rubbed his arm bracingly, and then felt his forehead. It was cold and clammy with river water, but Arthur was glad there was no fever.

Outside, the prince quickly gathered the driest wood he could find, as much as he could hold. The sun was heading downwards now, though it would still be light for a while, and the temperature was dropping, cooling Arthur's wet clothes.

Arthur wanted enough to warm them, for he was starting to shiver now as well, and to last out the night.

He entered the cave, squinting in the dimness, until he could see Merlin sitting up, clutching his knees to his chest. He raised his head as Arthur came in.

"You're awake?" Arthur said, surprised to see him upright. He began preparing the fire.

"B-b-been awake..." Merlin was shaking almost too hard to speak, and Arthur gave him a quick look of concern, before turning back to the fire. He needed to get it lit very soon. If only his own fingers weren't numb by now.

He struck the flint, and the spark fell into the tinder, catching slowly. "Come on..." He muttered, blowing.

Finally, it caught, and Arthur was able to add fuel until he had a small flame going, the warmth of which he could already feel in his hands.

He turned to Merlin, who was just behind him, and Arthur was alarmed to see his lips were turning blue, and that his frequent coughs sounded worse than before.

"Alright, Merlin. Let's get warmed up, shall we?" Arthur murmured, tugging Merlin closer to the fire, and starting to strip off the wet clothes. He'd been in them for the better part of an hour, and Arthur worried that perhaps he should have had him undress a while ago. Kicking himself, he pulled off Merlin's brown coat, and neckerchief. "Come on, Merlin. I'm not going to do it all for you. It's your job to get me dressed, remember?"

Merlin nodded, shakily, and fumbled at the laceings on his shirt. Between them, they had Merlin undressed down to his small clothes, goose-pimples raised on every inch of flesh, and wrapped firmly in three of their blankets, huddled as near to the fire as he could get. Arthur then turned his attentions to himself, and he quickly joined his manservant by the fire, wrapped in the last blanket from their bedrolls, their clothes laid out to dry.

The fire slowly began to warm them, and Merlin's lips lost that blue tinge. He didn't stop coughing, however, in fact they seemed to be getting worse, each fit nearly bowling him over. Arthur found himself having to brace him when they started, and hope he didn't fall in the fire, they were so close.

Then Merlin's strength gave out, and he went limp, breathing harshly. Arthur caught him, and leaned him against his side. He remembered from Gaius at some point, saying that a person having trouble breathing shouldn't be laid flat, so he propped Merlin up against him.

Merlin was no longer cold, but his face had flushed, and Arthur could feel the heat coming off his skin. He had a fever now, Arthur realized.

The coughs continued, and Arthur held Merlin the best he could through the fits.

"Careful Merlin, breath slowly now." Arthur had been murmuring for a while, not really knowing what he was saying.

Which leads him to now, cursing himself for not paying attention. The signs had all been there, and if he'd just looked Merlin would be home in bed now, not sitting soaked and nearly naked in a damp cave, struggling to breath with cough and fever.

Arthur groaned, and clenched his teeth. If he'd had a wall nearby, he'd have banged his fist-or head- into it.

Arthur wished Gaius was here, or that they were there. Either one, really would make this situation so much better than it was.

Merlin gave a shuddering breath, and Arthur leaned forwards to peer around at his face. He'd been unaware for a while now, but Arthur wasn't sure if he was unconscious, asleep or just dozing.

Arthur didn't know what to do.

Eventually, the heat of Merlin's fever got to be too much, and in truth Arthur's body heat couldn't be the best for Merlin either. He needed to cool him down, so Arthur leaned him back, stacking the packs into a rough pillow, leaving Merlin half upright against the wall. He laid the blanket across his legs, leaving his chest bare to the air.

Then he tugged out their water skins, still mostly full, and made him have a drink. Then he used Merlin's scarf, dampened with water, to wipe the sweat from his friend's face and neck, trying to lower his temperature. At some point, he pulled his mostly dry shirt back on, the chill of the evening getting to him without Merlin's body heat against him.

The sole rabbit they'd caught currently lay downstream, probably as a treat for some hungry wolf, but he did have some dried meat, and he used it to make a thin salty broth. He traded off with the water, and the broth, pouring it down Merlin's throat, and collecting more from the rain outside with the extra pan.

Sometimes Merlin coughed up phlegm or other fluids from his lungs, and Arthur wiped it away gently (though not without a slight expression of disgust). He hoped Merlin would know how much he owed him whenever he woke up. He also hoped that coughing up fluids was a good sign. He knew as much to look out for blood, but there'd been no sign of that.

Other times, Merlin choked on horrid sounding dry coughs, leaving Arthur clutching him, pulling him upright, and feeling sure that Merlin's ribs would break under the strain he could feel beneath his fingers.

Mostly he lay still, breath rasping but steady, and it was these times that Arthur, pausing in his ministrations, would feel sure that they'd get out of this alright.

Finally, the sun rose over their little part of the forest. Arthur awoke from his doze to birdsong, and he jolted upright from where he'd been slumped over, his nose nearly touching Merlin's shoulder. He glanced around in almost panic, before the memories of last night came back to him, and he turned to Merlin, eye's wide.

"Merlin?" He whispered, his voice dry. Merlin was laying against the packs, and breathing normally, if a bit roughly. His face looked less pale, and there was no longer a fever rogue on his cheeks. He stirred at Arthur's voice, coming out of his sleep slowly.

Arthur broke into a smile, relief nearly bowling him over. He was grinning when Merlin's eye's fluttered, then opened and met his own.

"Huh?" Merlin breathed, not sure what was going on, then he too seemed to remember, and his hand floated towards his chest. He was probably pretty sore.

"Hey," Arthur greeted, grin still painting his cheeks, until he made an attempt to control it, clearing his throat. "So I see you survived the night."

Merlin's blue eyes twinkled. "It was just a cough..." He rasped, smiling.

"Yes, well, thanks to me, you won't be dying anytime soon, so you'd best be grateful." Arthur proclaimed.

Merlin huffed, then slowly pushed himself against the packs, trying to get further upright. Arthur helped him sit up, then put a hand to Merlin's forehead. He was cool, and blessedly alive, and Arthur felt that pesky grin threatening the corners of his mouth again.

"How do you feel?" He asked, sobering.

"I'm fine." Merlin said, and Arthur snorted.

"Whenever that word comes out of your mouth I have the oddest desire to wallop you over the head."

Merlin gave a sheepish smile, and shrugged. Arthur shook his head in exasperation, but he knew it was heavily tinged with fondness, and relief.

"When you're well enough to walk, we'll start heading back to Camelot. We're only a few hours away."

"Alright," Merlin nodded, and began to get his arms under him, ready to rise. Arthur was quick to put a hand on his elbow, noting the boy's pale face, and the dark circles bruising the underside of his eyes.

"I _said_, when you're well enough."

"I am well enough." Merlin protested, but Arthur rolled his eyes, and turned the pack that Merlin was laying against, jostling the servant's head as he searched for...

"Aha! Here" He thrust his prize into Merlin's hands, and Merlin stared at it for a moment, before smiling. "Eat that, and then we'll go. You belong in a bed, not this damp hole."

Merlin agreeably nodded, popping one of the dried berries from Arthur's pack in his mouth. Berries he'd been expressly forbidden to eat. He chewed, then stopped. "Wait, who said anything about bed? I'm fi-" A glare from Arthur cut off his word. He swallowed, then gave an uneasy laugh.

It was mid-morning by the time Arthur allowed Merlin to try standing. He remembered all too well the hours last night when Merlin had coughed for minutes at a time, and had burned up with fever. He was much better, but still not well (no matter how many times he said the word fine). His face a pale, and he was breathing hard with only the act of getting dressed. Arthur worried about the walk back, and cursed himself for not bringing the horses. He had a thought of leaving Merlin here while he fetched them, but he really didn't want to leave the idiot alone for too long-he always managed to find trouble, and who knew what would happen while Arthur was gone.

So in the end, Arthur carried both packs, and the arm of his manservant slung across his shoulders. Merlin hung upon him, getting heavier the longer they walked, but he didn't complain, and Arthur didn't ask. He simply trudged on, wanting to reach the city as soon as he could.

And reach it they did, and Merlin turned out to be fine (in actuality this time) after a few days bedrest, and things went back to the way they always were. But Arthur, deep in his heart, resolved to pay closer attention to Merlin. He clearly had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, and really it would just be such a hassle if Arthur had to hire a new manservant because of carelessness.

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><p>AN: I simply had to try my hand at writing in this lovely fandom! I recently (and many thanks to my sister, Kate-7h) found BBC's Merlin (and when has that channel ever let me down before, really?). It is absolutely fantastic, and I cannot wait for the new series premiere! This is just a short little fic, dipping my toes in, really.

I'm currently working on a much longer piece, one more serious in tone, and I'm looking for a beta if anyone is interested? No slash. PM me, or tell me in a review, and I'd be eternally grateful!

Ari


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